


Respectably Ever After

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: Petunia stops by to see Lily's new baby and makes an unexpected connection instead.





	Respectably Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004.

She was only there because their mother insisted. 

Petunia's face screwed into a moue of distaste as she knocked on the door of her sister's house. Godric's Hollow. What sort of name was that? She didn't want to be there, didn't want to see her sister's baby. Never mind that Lily had already visited her and cooed over her dear Duddykins -- who wouldn't? He was the most adorable baby ever born, and that Lily recognized it only meant there was _one_ way in which she was normal. 

No, Petunia didn't want to be there, but Mother had badgered her until she agreed. Vernon, of course, had refused to come. Not that she blamed him. She longed to be back in her own home, away from this place and her sister. Her "special" sister. 

Worked up into annoyance now, she knocked harder, but there was no answer. She peered in the window, but she didn't see anyone inside, and she breathed a sigh of relief for the reprieve, ready to turn and leave. 

"They're upstairs with Harry." 

The voice startled her, and she whirled around, gasping and pressing one hand to her chest. A young man, probably about Lily's age, stood there, watching her. He wasn't tall, and his clothes looked on the shabby side, but he had a pleasant face. 

"What?" Her tone was peevish, more so than she intended, but she was put out that one of Lily's freakish friends had sneaked up on her, and even more put out that she had been assessing him. 

"I said they're upstairs with Harry. He needed a change." The young man's voice was deep and husky around the edges -- a furry voice -- and she liked it despite herself. 

"What are you doing out here skulking about, then?" she demanded, and he lifted one hand to show her the cigarette burning between his fingers. 

"Lily doesn't like these around the baby." He cocked his head, seeming to examine her. "You must be Lily's sister. I can see the resemblance." 

"You can?" She stared at him, surprised. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had said she and Lily looked anything alike, not since they were children. 

He nodded. "Around the eyes and mouth." 

She didn't know what to say to that. "Thank you" seemed inappropriate, since it was an observation, not necessarily a compliment, so she glanced at the front door again, wondering if she should simply walk inside. She didn't want to, though. Once she crossed the threshold, she would be in Lily's world, the one where magic truly existed and special people could wield great power like in the fairy tales Petunia had devoured as a girl. The world where she, and not Lily, didn't fit in, because Lily was special. Petunia was not. But Lily hadn't even liked fairy tales all that much. 

"You're one of Lily's friends?" She turned back to the stranger instead, dredging up her cocktail party conversation skills, the ones she was honing in order to help Vernon climb the ladder of success. 

"James and I roomed together at school." 

"Yes, I know all about _that_ school," she sneered. "You're one of _them_." 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Technically, yes." 

"What do you mean by that?" Her disdain turned to suspicion as she eyed him warily. "You went to that school, so you must be. You aren't... what do they call it... Muggle." 

The smile turned into quiet laughter at that. "Love, I'm not even human." 

She gasped, and she knew she ought to move away from him, whatever he was, but she didn't. "What are you, then?" 

"Do you really want to know?" 

There was amusement in his eyes, but something else as well -- a gleam that made her feel inexplicably as if she was being toyed with, and that raised her hackles. Clutching her purse to her chest with white-knuckled fingers, she stepped forward, lifting her chin defiantly. 

"Yes!" 

He lifted the cigarette to his lips, took a deep drag, and dropped it, releasing a thin stream of smoke between his lips as he ground out the cigarette with his foot. Only then did he glance at her, that half-smile playing at his mouth again. 

"I'm a werewolf." 

Petunia shrank back, gaping incredulously at him. She hadn't had to walk into Lily's house to enter the fairy tale after all; she had landed in the middle of one right there on the lawn. 

"Relax, Little Red." The werewolf shoved his hands into his pockets, still watching her with that unsettling intensity that was causing a little flutter in the vicinity of her midsection. "My big teeth don't show in daylight, and not for another week, if you want to be precise." 

"How -- how can you be so calm about it? How can you live with what you are? How can you make _jokes_?" 

He shrugged and smiled again. "Better than driving myself mad over something I can't change." 

"You're freaks -- all of you!" To her horror, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I never should have come here! I don't want anything to do with any of you -- you're horrid, and I hate you!" 

She was weeping openly then, and her vision was too blurry for her to see inside her purse as she scrounged fruitlessly for a handkerchief. Then she felt soft cloth brush against her cheek, and she snapped her head up to see the werewolf standing close -- so close -- to her, wiping her face with what must have been his own handkerchief. 

"It isn't easy, is it." His voice was quiet and calming, and she found herself shaking her head, agreeing with him even though she wasn't entirely certain what he meant. "It isn't easy being the one standing on the outside because you aren't the right kind to be allowed in." 

He dried her tears and handed her the handkerchief. "Blow," he instructed. She did, noisily, and then offered it back, but he shook his head. "Keep it." 

"Thank you." She didn't mean just the handkerchief, but he seemed to understand. He seemed to understand quite a lot, and Petunia was surprised to realize that she didn't mind him standing so close. 

She gazed up at him, and for the first time, she noticed what lay behind the calmness in his eyes. She leaned towards him, for once letting herself be honest and giving in to her fascination instead of hiding behind a show of repulsion. If they had been different people, she thought, they might have kissed. The moment was right, and she felt a tension -- an ache -- that she hadn't felt since the early days of Vernon's courtship, before she found out exactly how respectable and normal he was. 

"I'm married, and I have a baby, too," she breathed, forcing herself to break the moment. 

"Do you?" He stepped back, and the connection between them, fragile and tenuous as it was, dissipated like mist in sunlight. "Congratulations." He paused, and then added, "You could go inside, if you like. I'm sure they'll be down in a minute." 

"No." She edged away from him. "Just -- tell Lily I was here, will you?" 

"Of course." 

And she had fled, back to the safety of her respectable house, respectable family, and respectable life. 

Years later, she saw him again at the train station and knew him immediately. His hair was turning grey, his face was lined, and his clothes were even shabbier, but it was him. The werewolf. Her werewolf. She didn't even know his name, only his initials that she had found embroidered on the handkerchief she still carried in the little side pocket of her purse. She never took it out when Vernon or Dudley were around, and she never used it, but every time she changed her purse, she moved it along with her wallet and spare set of keys. 

She slid her fingers into her purse, into the pocket, stroking the soft, worn cloth, and wondered if she should give it back. He glanced over at her, then, and their eyes met. She saw the flare of recognition in his gaze, and she nodded slightly, daring no more even though Vernon was preoccupied with whatever the man with the strange eye was telling him. He smiled back briefly and then turned his attention on Vernon. She pulled her hand out of her purse, glancing around to make certain she hadn't been noticed, embarrassed at feeling so flustered over a simple look -- and at her age, too. 

She wouldn't give it back. He had told her to keep it, after all, and it was a reminder of fairy tales and choices not made and a beast who might have needed the kiss of someone who was not such a beauty. It reminded her of everything she didn't know and which she had not dared to learn.


End file.
